


we’ll be fine line / we’ll be alright

by montreal



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Stephen Strange, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omega Peter Parker, Omega Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montreal/pseuds/montreal
Summary: Between staying alive and dying, Tony’s line is grey.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 2
Kudos: 96





	we’ll be fine line / we’ll be alright

**Author's Note:**

> A draft I had on my folder which I have decided to post after sitting there for months. I tried new style of writing and it’s been so long since the last time I wrote this ship. I’ve been busy in the Hannibal fandom (also, a heads-up! I might post something Hannibal or HEU related in the future!) I will add more tags, later and sorry if there’s grammatical mistakes! Enjoy!
> 
> The title is from Harry Styles’ _Fine Line_

Between staying alive and dying, Tony’s line is grey. Blurred on the edge as he stares and tries to comprehend. He doesn’t remember where he had stood before.

On 24th April 2013, an eight-story building in the Savar Upazila of Dhaka, Bangladesh which was known as the Rana Plaza, collapsed and killed approximately one thousand people and the rest, which consists of two thousand and five hundred people, were hurt. In between those numbers, there were adults, teenagers, toddlers, and  _ babies _ . It was a tragedy, one of the biggest and saddest accidents, crossing names, and digging cold grounds. Tony hoped he could count the seconds before the roof met the ground and crushed down its people with it. Maybe he should’ve. Tony hadn’t had the time to count the victims – who died, who  _ survived _ . That time, he was in the thought of war and pain and limbo. But he knows how many  _ seconds _ did he need to take them out. Just like Ultron all over again, right when the land of Sokovia crumbles apart above his palms, beneath his own doings. But for this…

...for  _ this, _ Tony lost timing. Does it start at the time he was born? The time he spent his adolescence drowning in liquor and sex with different alphas and betas? Does it start with Steve? The edge of his shield planted deep in his chest, dimming down FRIDAY into unconsciousness while he was in the thick snow of Siberia? Does it start with Stephen? In Bangladesh, a thousand people died in a crushed building.

(His own tragedy was waiting to happen.)

\--

The room is silent and cold, thin fucking air, as Stephen blinks. He had spent years working in hospitals and though since the accident and magic happened, he hasn’t forgotten the scent. Antiseptic lingers in the air he takes, fingers trembling. But this one is different. Perhaps, it’s the situation; on edge. Like he waited for a grenade to fall upon him and blow up the place. Of his lover, face beaten up well enough his heart aches, and his hollow expression as Tony stares at the wall. 

Back in the year 2000, Stephen Strange didn't find any interest in getting an omega. The thought flashed in his mind a couple of times, in the middle of drinking bad coffee in the hospital or locking the door of his empty and vast apartment as he called in for his usual pizza place. The thought never appeared when Tony’s face on his television, flashes of red and gold on the background, flying away into the black hole and the scent of hurt and disappointment oozing from Christine’s beta glands as she put the box which he assumed as Tony’s apologies (“he gave it to me when he visited the hospital this morning. He said sorry – just... please understand him, Stephen. And take care of yourself. At least do it for Tony,”) on the kitchen table. He dangerously thought about it one day while he was laying on his bed in New York, roses in the shape of his name lying quietly in the box. He thought of Tony. 

Anthony and his mint marjoram, Summer Savory, and oil.

Anthony and his spices. Teasing grin tugged up when Stephen flinched away from the wriggling hands on his waist, purposefully tickling the area of his skin there. Echo of laughter. Brush of kisses against his lips, chin tingled with a burn from Tony’s trimmed goatee. 

Anthony and his –  _ blood. _

Red crimson, dripping; blue and purple all over. 

Stephen had never been this helpless in his entire life. Stephen had never wanted an omega, but Anthony came and it changed. Everything had changed. And if he lost Tony, now, Stephen might not survive.

\--

“Doctor Strange,”

“Hello, Peter. Back from school?”

“Yeah,” he replies quietly.

“Have you eaten yet? I think we have something in the kitchen. Something we can warm up. Or maybe I can ask FRIDAY–”

“No, it’s –  _ just _ – how’s he?” 

To see Peter agitated, jittering in his place with one hand tightly gripping his backpack strap and the other playing with his own trembling fingers, unconsciously chipping off the sidewall of his nail, breaks his heart. The kid himself has been on edge, abandoning his responsibility of being a superhero in favor of slipping into the Stark tower after school, and waiting for any updates.

Stephen sighs. “Tony’s in his room.”

“Oh,”  _ tick, tick, tick, _ Peter’s nails against his others. His bottom lips between teeth, cherry red, anxious. He stops. “Has he eaten yet?”

“I don’t –  _ haven’t _ checked it. But I brought him apples earlier... and pancakes. I don’t think–”

“Can I–?”

It hangs. 

_ Can I see him? Can I visit him? Can I bring him food? Can I meet him? Can I talk to him? Can I sit by the edge of the bed and be with him? Can I? Can I? _

“Yes.”

\--

Peter ran through the hallway. 

He was half limping but the pain didn’t stop him from running to the targeted room. The bruises on his face were almost half bad, too, considering the look people gave him. As if he was about to crumble in a matter of seconds. A concerned nurse stopped him midway, suggesting for small help and perhaps some bandages, but he politely declined. He wouldn’t deny that the punches and kicks he got from the recent fight with Captain America were painful. His cheek and forehead blossomed with purple as soon as he got home and he cringed when May pressed a bit too hard on the swollen skin but it was forgotten when he heard about the news. About Mr. Stark.

There was a ruckus near the room. People that he knew were standing, hands crossed over their chests.  _ Not many people, _ he corrected. After Steve Rogers and the Siberia incident. The incident that brought him here. Soon, the smell of a sterile room and floor filled his nose, overwhelming his senses. A distressed omega was screaming, overlapping by other voices, footsteps, and alpha’s voice; demanding. Peter’s sense was suddenly on high alert. The omega in him growled at the noises.

He was ready to bust down the door, ignoring Stephen’s figure standing too quickly on his peripheral vision, until he caught what was happening. 

What was  _ missing _ .

“Oh,” Peter whimpered, stepping back, a hand covering his mouth that gaped open in shock. “Oh, no, Mr. Stark,” his eyes caught Stephen’s. “Doc – Doctor Strange, tell me I’m not – I, where is–?”

The alpha trembled. “Pete,”

They engulfed each other in a hug. Peter hoped he could damp out the noises and sight out of his head and the screaming of a grieving omega out of his ears. 

They cried. 

\--

A new family was moving into the apartment next to Peter’s. The said family consisted of a male Beta, a female Omega, and one toddler who was still waiting for her secondary sex to come out. Bethany, which Peter had learned her name months ago after she wandered off into the hallways as Peter was about to go to Ned’s house, was a nice kid. She had bright blue eyes and long brown locks with the tip of her hair curled into a perfect round, nestled behind her ears. Once, they shared a conversation until the mother came out and picked her up. She was sorry because she thought she had Beth ready in the kitchen, only turned out the said kid was wandering off into the hallway. Peter had paid no mind (“no, it’s fine, she’s a great kid. I think we’re best friends, now. Right, Beth?”) and gave the kid a high five before leaving.

The short conversation he had with Beth, had changed Peter’s plan that day. Instead of keeping his first schedule, he found himself walking to the Stark tower, texting Ned that he had something important along the way that he needed to reschedule. Made him feel giddy with energy and impatient as he got closer to the building. He thought of light conversation in the living room with Mr. Stark while watching another stupid episode of Love Island and popping questions of random baby names with mouth full of pizza. The answer was either a low thrum of hum or cringe with a disagreeing tug on the corner of his lips. Then, Doctor Strange would snatch the box away and scold Peter for being a bad influence on Tony because they ate too much junk food and how it was not good for the baby. Peter whined. Mr. Stark would imitate him. Exasperated, Doctor Strange would give the box back but he made sure to snatch one slice before leaving.

Now remembering those in the present time, wouldn’t bring any good memories. His eyes sting from zoning out for too long without realizing he hasn’t blinked his eyes in seconds. Standing in front of Tony’s door, Peter inhales. There’s that pain again, deep inside his chest. Rotting. A reminder. 

This must be heartbreak.

“Mr. Stark,”

The omega looks tired, despite laying down on his bed most of his time. Peter sits on the edge of his bed. “Kid,” he croaks out.

“Hey, I uh–” Peter folds his hands. “How’re you?”

Tony sighs, a graze of a sad smile appears. Peter’s mouth snaps shut. His eyes burn for the second time today. 

Tony only  _ smiles _ . 

Everything is quiet. Peter wants to cry.

“So, uh, I found this in my box yesterday when I was cleaning up my room, and guess what,” Peter’s fingers stumble but then he takes out a small figurine, a hesitant smile grazed on his lips. “ _...Iron-Man Funko Pop, _ ” he adds, wiggling the said figurine by its feet, hoping the gesture will bring a smile to the older omega’s face. “I cleaned it up and brought it with me to school. I thought it’s funny. And cute. Ned said so, too. And I was – I was keeping it in case,” his eyes darted on Tony’s flat belly. Peter chokes. “I – _ you _ – ”

Peter stops. Eyes red.

Mr. Stark’s gaze turns hollow once again.

(He gets it.)

Peter chokes on his words. “I – I am, I’m sorry, I don’t,” 

_ I don’t mean to bring it up. I don’t know what was happening. I don’t want to see you suffer, Mr. Stark. I don’t want to lose you, too. I don’t... _

“Peter,”

“Everything is gonna be okay, Mr. Stark.” __

\--

(Tony twisted his fingers in the bed, raging. Luckily his alpha wasn’t here to hold him down. Probably the doctors wouldn’t let him. Probably he was a coward. Tony would do, too, if the roles were reversed. After rage, came pain, anguish. He remembered blood between his legs and it had felt like she was slipping away. “I lost the baby?”

“I am sorry, Mr. Stark.”)

\--

Tony remembers: cold.

Cold metal, cold wind. Now, under the thick of his weighted blanket, sometimes he still can feel it creeping under his skin, raising silent goosebumps. There is a feeling of cotton in his ears, dampened out the voices from outside as he blinks his eyes open. One hand unconsciously goes to his belly. It halts when he  _ remembers _ . Tony remembers cold and –  _ blood _ .

Fingers trembling, putting pressure onto his flat stomach while fresh tears filled his eyes once again. It feels like a damn switch in his head. One time he feels okay, and then the wave comes and he suddenly is being hit and drowns. He drowns so far until he can touch the ground. 

The worst time would be the one where he doesn’t reach the ground. He couldn’t  _ see _ the bottom of the sea. It is just a plain black, swallowing him up while both of his feet float aimlessly. It is dangerous to keep floating, he realizes. Too long in the water, the next time he blinks, it's been three weeks since Peter told him about the project that he and Ned were working on. The said project was brilliant and fascinating. Peter had sent pictures of it through messages, which Tony opened two weeks after Peter sent him messages filled with confetti emoji and pictures of it attached on it. 

(The project finished exactly one week after he told Tony.)

On the desk, stands the said Iron Man Funko. Tony reaches out and holds it in a weak grip.

“FRI,”

“Yes, boss?”

He gulps, eyes wet as his index finger comes to brush over the figurine. “Could you please start the bath,”

“Sure, boss.”

“Thank you.”

Her answer halts in a pause. As if she’s surprised. “You’re welcome.”

It’s not much. 

But it’s a start.


End file.
